The Feliciraptor has reached the age where we feel her cognitive abilities allow us to start teaching her what is and isn’t appropriate behaviour. We have been lucky so far that the three years of her existence has been pretty smooth, she is a great sleeper and a really fun and cheerful baby.
The only problem is that she’s a punk.
It is less than a few weeks to go until she is two, but she is already reaching the tantrum stage and our attempts to exert some influence over her behaviour are hitting a rocky patch.
We thought a simple ‘no’ said firmly would be enough to turn her from the darkside. Instead we get a turn of the head and some shade thrown in our direction. I recognise the look, it’s the same look I give when I’m told I can’t do something (normally wanting to go into space) and The Feliciraptor does the same when we stop her doing what she would like (normally trying to eat from the bin).
Recently though the looks have evolved into throwing. Again there is paternal precedent because in my angrier past I have been known to throw sofas and Playstations. So when our little dino picks her little pushchair and lobs it across the room because it won’t fit in a specific place I feel I stand on thin moral ice when it come to admonishment.
It is much easier when her default tantrum is ‘possuming’. Rather than kick and scream she just collapses onto the floor an lies there. Wherever ‘there’ may be.
This comes in particularly handy when the tantrum is in the middle of a church service and the only danger are to the knee cushions under the pews.
Now she is getting older though we have decided that it is time for time out, especially as a certain lil’ person is getting slappy. So yesterday for the first time she got put on a step. It was easier said than done, mostly because our daughter (like her mother) is a fidget bum. After a number of ‘restart the minute’ calls we eventually got her to sit for sixty seconds and have some time to cool down.
Despite the tears though we thought we had some impact on her. She said sorry afterwards and walked back into the front room…where she proceeded to pick up the pushchair and threw it across the floor. She looked up and said:
Like I said, she’s a punk.